"Didn't your flesh creep when that queer perfume assailed your nostrils, which are not yet altogether atrophied by the reek of thousands of rank cigars ?" "Stop it!" commanded Winter, throwing open a door.
"And they christened him Leander--Leander, who swam the Hellespont for love of a woman!" muttered Furneaux.
Theydon began to believe that both detectives were cranks of the first order.

Furneaux, whose extraordinary insight he actually feared, was obviously an excellent example of the alliance between insanity and genius.

In a word, he failed, and not unreasonably, to understand that when the Jersey man was mouthing a strange jargon of knowledge and incoherence, and Winter was inclined to be snappy with his subordinate, and each was more than rude to the other, they were then giving tongue like hounds hot on the trail.
Winter's Christian names were James Leander, the latter being conferred for no more classical reason than his father's association with a famous boating club, but the fact supplied Furneaux with material for many a quip.

These things Theydon learnt later.

At present he was giving all his attention to Winter, who led the way into a dainty furnished bedroom.